


I Want You To Want Me

by Ryuutchi



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Between Episodes, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mark's on top, Mind Manipulation, Mutant Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuutchi/pseuds/Ryuutchi
Summary: Food, scotch, sex-- I don’t know, Damien; there's a lot of good things in life.In which Mark and Damien enjoy sex a lot, Mark learns why having sex using Damien's powers is a terrible idea, and Damien probably ends up with lasting issues.





	I Want You To Want Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Radioqueen, BlackNekoJess and Reliantstraylight for the betas.

“I’ll be right back, Damien. I just want to ask the clerk for a map. Behave.” Mark tucked the motel key card into the car’s cupholder. With one lingering stern look, he disappeared into the motel office. 

Damien watched the car door close behind Mark. He took a breath, then another, and all of sudden his breath was coming in too-fast, shuddering gasps, and it felt like he was shaking out of his skin. With Mark too far away to suppress Damien’s emotions, they rose like a tidal wave, crashing over him. Trying to force himself out of the near-blackout, Damien scanned the car. He couldn’t leave; Mark didn’t want that, so he couldn’t make himself want to scoot into the driver’s seat. Mark had left the cell phone, but who was Damien going to call? Dr B.? Ha. Without his powers, he couldn’t get anyone to help. And Mark was just waiting to hear from Dr B. and Sam before dropping Damien into the darkest hole they could find. He stared at the phone—if he’d remembered to take it with him—!

But he hadn’t. Damien lunged toward the phone, a sudden shock of rage making goosebumps rise on his skin and his vision narrow. With his fingers wrapped around it, the phone felt thin, flimsy. It was the newest model, charmed out of a pretty young clerk, and if Mark was going to use it to leave, to hand Damien over to the AM and leave him alone again to run off with _Sam_ , pretty, sweet, overly-anxious Sam… Damien’s grip tightened.

He threw open the door to the car. He took two steps toward the motel room they were supposed to be staying in. With all his strength, he threw the phone at the motel room door. When he retrieved it, all he’d managed was a small chip on the side of the screen. The urge to scream, to lash out, boiled inside him. Damien grabbed the key card from the cupholder where Mark had left it and swiped the door open. 

He scrambled into the room and held the phone against the door frame. He slammed the door against the phone, watching as the aluminum snapped and the glass shattered. He dropped it, staring at the mess.

It felt like his legs wouldn’t hold him anymore. Damien dropped back onto his ass. His breathing still came in sharp, painful bursts, and his chest felt like someone was squeezing his lungs until they wanted to explode. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, with what seemed like the last of his breath.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, mind alternating between blankly overwhelmed and swirling with destructive impulses before he climbed to his feet, scooped up the remnants of the phone and dumped them in the toilet. A couple of the glass shards sliced his palm, but it didn’t matter. He just wiped the blood on his jeans. Damien stared out at the rest of the room, and, with a strangled cry, stormed over to the table and upended it. In a mindless whirlwind of uncontrollable emotion and trembling limbs, he threw his backpack and duffel, and anything light that he could easily pick up, across the room.

He knew Mark had returned when the anger seeped away, leaving him cold and hollow again. The door pushed open behind him.

“What the hell, Damien?” Mark snapped. 

The fight drained out of Damien’s frame as Mark closed the door properly. Damien turned, his eyes burning and his expression bleak. 

“I was angry.” Damien righted the desk and the chair. “I want to be angry.” 

Mark kicked one of the pillows out of his way and headed for the bed. His face said he couldn’t handle Damien—that he was too frustrated by his own inability to get things done. Damien knew they only had a little bit of gas in the car, neither of them had any money, and how the hell was Mark supposed to get home like this? 

The blankets and pillows were victims of Damien’s tantrum, strewn across the floor and piled at the foot of the bed. 

“Damien, where’s the phone?” Mark asked.

Damien stared down at his hands, flat against the cheap motel table, as though he’d never seen them before and was wondering who they belonged to. He opened his mouth, paused, started again. “In the toilet. I broke it so you wouldn’t be able to call them again.” He swallowed hard, his shoulders rising defensively. 

“You… what?” Mark almost seemed to enjoy the way that Damien pressed back against the chair, cheeks darkening. He sucked in a breath and Damien felt the way he reached for the power he’d accidentally stolen, the way the desire to hunch his shoulders and apologize faded in and out as Mark fought with himself. The other man jerked away and stormed to the bathroom.

“Fuck,” Mark said, his voice rising sharply. Damien knew what he’d see-- the phone wasn’t exactly “stick it in a bag of rice” salvageable, it was crushed and mangled and soaked in water. Their only connection to Dr. B and Sam. Mark spun around to stare at Damien. “You fucking manipulative son of a bitch,” he said, although his voice was blank. He didn’t know what he wanted, and that was probably why Damien didn’t know what _he_ wanted either. “I don’t-- fuck,” Mark said again, more vehemently. “Do you know what you just did? You took _months_ I could have spent with Joanie, and now you just destroyed my only way to contact her? You lying, goddamn,” Mark’s voice broke.

Damien could feel it suddenly-- the way Mark wanted. Wanted to Damien to apologize, to mean it, get on his knees and.... Mark hissed and shook his head.

Damien couldn’t stop the way his muscles tensed in anticipation of a command even as Mark jerked his head to the side, breaking eye contact. This wasn’t what he’d thought it would feel like from the other side, this scrabbling to keep control over some part of himself even as his mind and body bent to unspoken desire. Damien felt the bile rise in his throat, the anger that Mark didn’t want him to feel, so he couldn’t— was this what everyone had felt like when they were around him? 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, staring up at Mark’s dark glare. “Fuck,” he said again, because what welled up in anger’s stead was a thin, desperate fear, as though his body didn’t know what to do with the adrenaline and channeled it directly into the darkest crevice of his mind. “Mark, I—” what could he say?

“I told you I didn’t want to hear any more of your lies,” Mark snapped, making Damien fall back as though the words were physical blows. “You just fucked up my only way to talk to my sister. I barely know where the hell we are, the car has no gas, and what, what the hell am I supposed to do now?” 

He stomped over to the bed and, for lack of anything better to do, started grabbing pillows and putting them back where they belonged. It kept his hands busy and meant he didn’t have to look at Damien, and confront the fact that Damien was responding to what Mark was throwing out.

“I need you, Mark,” Damien gasped out, like they were the only words that would let him breathe. 

It was Mark’s turn to shake like he’d been punched. “The fuck, Damien! You kidnapped me, lied to me, tried to gaslight me into thinking I was insane, and for what?”

“I wanted someone who would be like me. Who could control me.” Damien’s teeth clicked together and his face heated with shock. He wasn’t sure how it was possible to feel like he was cold from fear and burning from embarrassment at the same time. The sensations coiled in his gut. Why would he say something like that? But he knew, they both knew. Mark didn’t want Damien to lie. So he had told the truth. He licked his lips and stared at the way his knuckles shifted under his skin as he flexed his fingers.

Mark stared down at him, lips parted in shock. Damien barely moved from the motel desk chair. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? Jesus fuck, look at me, Damien!” 

Damien’s shoulders shook, his hands were white-knuckled against the desktop, and he dragged his gaze up at Mark, pupils blown so wide his irises were barely a sliver of color. Mark reached for the power he’d stolen, not sure if this was a normal reaction. 

Damien wished he could even want to lie. “Yeah. It’s the truth.” He watched Mark’s expression, the way his eyebrows knitted and his lips pressed together. Before Mark could say anything else, Damien slid from the chair onto his knees. Mark made a startled sound above him, although Damien couldn’t find it in himself to be shocked. He’d thought about this before, kneeling in front of someone, but could never bring himself to give up even that amount of control. Hell, he’d thought about doing it with Mark, but Mark had seemed untouchable, and anyway Damien hated using his powers for that shit. Confused and scared, Damien hadn’t wanted those desires to push Mark away any faster than he already had. So was this...? It had to be his own desires, the truth that Mark demanded pushing him to the floor.

Mark watched Damien lick his lips again, and huffed a sound, as though that would make Damien stop, or make Mark stop wanting Damien down there, or... something. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. His voice was uneven, uncertain. 

Damien stared up, wide-eyed. “I _want_ to.” He did. Mark wanted him to want it, but the desire didn’t originate from him, not entirely. “This isn’t all you, buddy.” The slight edge of sarcasm felt like a victory. 

Mark took a jerky step towards Damien, who struggled to summon his usual smug grin. It was a small gesture that faded as Mark drew close. Mark sucked in a deep breath, unable to compartmentalize and pull back. The way Damien was looking at him, the words— the truth as Damien knew it, because Mark still wanted the truth-- Damien could feel the undertow of half a dozen images of willing Damien, lips bruised and spit-slick, eyes dark and desperate, doing everything Mark told him to. Mark swallowed hard and closed his eyes as though that would help control the way his mind and new powers and libido were dragging at both of them. Instead, Damien felt himself washed with the desire for another dozen scenarios, each one more obscene than the next. Damien groaned. 

“I’m not doing anything you don’t want me to do,” Damien said, and then his hands were on Mark’s fly. He fumbled with the button, and cursed under his breath, finally managing to unfasten the jeans and tug them down and away. Mark’s expression was unconvinced, as though the desire to see Damien like this seemed so overwhelming he couldn’t control it, much less stop himself from making Damien want it. All he did, though, was tangle his fingers in Damien’s hair and tug lightly. 

The pressure in his hair made Damien’s breath hitch. He stared at the bulge in Mark’s boxers, the way his precome dampened a spot on the fabric. Before he could really think about what he was doing, Damien leaned in and pressed his lips to Mark’s dick, tracing the line of it through the fabric. The fingers in his hair tightened and in response, he opened his mouth, taking in as much of the cloth-covered cock as he could. It tasted of sweat and he reached up to tug the boxers down, wanting them out of the way. Mark’s fingers clenched again, and Damien found his head being jerked back. His gaze found Mark’s and he couldn’t breathe, looking up at Mark (gentle, sweet Mark), whose expression was strained. 

“Stop,” Mark insisted. But he didn’t want Damien to stop; they could both feel it in their bones. Mark stepped back anyway. 

“At least let me,” Mark waved a hand at his state of undress, “you know, take my clothes off.” He fumbled his pants and boxers off and staggered backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed. Mark sat heavily, legs spread, and watched Damien, who was unable to look away from Mark’s cock and the way it hung heavy. “Okay, you can come back,” he said.  
Instead of standing, Damien found himself crawling towards Mark. Was that something Mark was insisting on? Or did Damien just… like it this way?

“Damien, why—?” 

Mark’s words were cut off with a groan that sounded pulled out of him when Damien’s mouth found his bare cock. Mark tangled his fingers in Damien’s hair again, tugging him further down. Damien couldn’t help the low, desperate sounds that came from having his lips wrapped around Mark’s dick. He knew they made Mark want to just fuck him senseless because as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Damien felt the sharp pain of need, and he sucked hard at the tip of Mark’s cock. 

The blowjob was messy— Damien didn’t have much experience— but enthusiastic. All he could do was focus on the taste and weight of it in his mouth, the way Mark whimpered above him and pulled at his hair, directing him this way and that. Damien slid back to lick the head and then took as much of it into his mouth as he could. His own dick was hard in his pants, and he shifted, trying to get a little friction. He wouldn’t, couldn’t stop holding onto Mark’s hips, though. His thumbs pressed into sensitive skin at the juncture of thigh and hip and every time Damien moved, bobbing his head and squeezing, he could feel the way Mark’s desire shifted like a living thing in his mind. It felt good, like letting go. Damien pulled back again, using his teeth to scrape lightly over the head. Mark moaned, and his hands fisted in Damien’s hair, pulling him down without warning until he couldn’t take any more into his mouth. He whimpered, fingernails scraped at Mark’s hips and he couldn’t breath, his gag reflex deserting him for a moment. He tried to relax into the unfamiliar sensation, but he couldn’t breathe, no matter how much he liked being forced to take it like this. 

Damien shoved frantically as Mark’s hips, his own hips grinding against the floor. It took Mark a minute to realize that he was forcing Damien to choke on his dick, that the little whimpers were warnings. He released the other man’s hair, and reached back to grab hold of the bedsheets instead. 

“S-sorry,” he rasped. 

Damien pulled off, coughing and gasping for air, but his pupils were blown out and his lips were red and shiny. The display made Mark’s cock jump a little, and Damien’s hungry gaze went suddenly from Mark’s face to his crotch again. “I, shit. This isn’t right, Damien. I’m taking advantage of this power.” 

“Fuck, don’t do this to me,” Damien snapped. “I want— you want it, so I want it, but I wanted you to fuck me before. So shut the hell up already and just fucking do it.” He sat back on his heels, the hard-on trapped in his jeans obvious to both of them. Mark had told Damien to tell the truth, but what if this was just Damien parroting what Mark wanted him to say? Down that road lay madness, and if he was going to go mad, maybe it was better to just let what was going to happen happen.

Mark took a breath and stood up. “Fine. Then I guess you should take your clothes off.”

It only took a moment for Damien to scramble to his feet and obey, dropping his clothes in a haphazard pile. Mark paused to take a good look at Damien, and Damien’s face flushed. They’d been living together for months, it’s not as though Mark had never seen Damien naked before. But stripped of his powers, stripped of control, he felt smaller— thin, lanky and pale, like just an ordinary guy. 

Mark cleared his throat. Being a few steps away helped clear Damien’s mind a little. But it was like mist clearing momentarily and he was pretty sure this was only temporary sanity. “Get on the bed.” Mark’s words sounded more commanding than they actually were, helped by the fact that Damien couldn’t talk back or do anything but what Mark wanted him to. And when Damien climbed onto the bed, that meant that Mark wanted it. Maybe Damien wanted it too, somewhere down in his fucked up brain. 

Damien sat on the bed, his knees apart. He watched Mark still and look about. He really hoped the asshole didn’t want him to beg for it more. It was humiliating to say the things that were always lingering at the back of his mind, and not even able to feel resentful that the words were being forced out. “Mark,” he said.

Holding up a hand, Mark darted into the bathroom and grabbed one of the courtesy bottles off the sink. “Lotion,” he announced, returning to the foot of the bed. “I’m not going to do this without anything, you know. And I don’t think you thought to buy lube the last time we stopped at a CVS.” There was an angry edge to the words. “So turn the hell around already.”

A switch flipped— Damien’s heart sped up, and there was nothing he wanted to do more. He turned around onto his stomach, settling onto the bed with his knees beneath him so that Mark had easy access. “Ffffuck,” Damien mumbled into the mattress. Mark’s proximity nearby, the quiet sound of the lotion bottle being opened, the way he felt exposed in every way… heat curled in his belly, making him rut against the sheets. 

“Stop that,” Mark snapped. Damien didn’t know why it annoyed him to watch Damien try and get himself off, but it did. So Damien stopped with a bit-off whine, pulling his hips up a little so that he couldn’t rub against the bed. Mark smeared the lotion on his hands. It smelt floral in that cheap way of motel toiletries, but it was slick and that was what mattered. He ran one hand over Damien’s ass, the thick liquid making Damien’s pale pink skin gleam. Damien pushed himself back into the touch. Behind him, Mark made a suppressed sound of need. “Try not to tense up, okay?” 

Damien nodded his head, although it was barely visible with his face pressed against the bed. Mark didn’t ask for anything more. He pressed one finger in, and Damien hissed out. The lotion stung a little, but the sense of being opened up bit by bit more than made up for the slight discomfort. He hitched his hips up, trying to lean back, but Mark’s free hand slid to his hip to hold him in place. Mark took his time, slow and gentle in a way Damien was pretty sure he didn’t deserve. He carefully slide a second finger into Damien, curling them both in a way that made Damien see spots and push back helplessly. Maybe Mark wasn’t being gentle, because he was being careful and slow in a way that drove Damien fucking insane. If he didn’t know Mark would just tell him to settle down, he would be thrusting back to meet that touch. Each stroke of Mark’s long fingers made Damien whine. Soon Mark added a third finger, twisting his hand as though he wanted to reach every part of the man splayed out in front of him.

After what seemed like forever to Damien, Mark withdrew, leaving him with trembling legs and feeling empty. “Mmm,” Damien said, trying to make his brain work enough to complain. 

Mark ran a hand down the curve of Damien’s spine. “Hold on a second,” he said, fumbling for the lotion bottle. It was hard to remember that Mark’s want was what made Damien want to please. Damien threw desperate glances over his shoulder— cheeks pink and eyes hooded— and he could feel that Mark wanted him just as desperately. With a few quick strokes, Mark coated his dick with the lotion. He parted Damien’s ass with his hands, pressing a thumb teasingly over his hole before pushing himself in. Both of their breaths caught. Damien felt tight and hot and like he was being split open, thrusting back with a quiet sound that might have been Mark’s name. 

Mark stilled to let both of them get used to the sensations, although Damien just groaned and tried to push back, to fuck himself on Mark. 

Greedy asshole. 

That was fine— if that was what he wanted, Mark would oblige. He grabbed Damien’s hips and pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in with a single shove. Damien’s back arched and he keened, fingers twisting in the sheets as he let Mark set a harsh pace, slowly pulling out and then thrusting back in all at once. Mark dragged his nails down Damien’s thighs-- it felt better than anything Damien could have thought of. This was real, this was solid and Damien wanted this like Mark wanted it, the divide between what Mark was projecting to Damien and what was Damien blurred together. 

The pleasure sparked between them, where they were joined, where they touched, in the red trails Mark’s nails left on Damien’s hips. Damien couldn’t stop the sounds he was making, even if he wanted to. It felt too fucking amazing; Mark deep inside him, in his body, in his mind— Damien freed one arm, reaching between his legs to wrap his fist around his own hard dick.

“Don’t move your hands,” Mark said, his voice rough. Damien hissed a needy sound as his arms tensed, Mark’s want curling through his brain and holding more securely than physical ties. He settled back down on both arms, fingers tangling in the sheets instead. His hips jerked back and Damien couldn’t tell whether the surge of desire originated from him or Mark. It didn’t matter.

Mark’s hands curled around his hips, holding so tight Damien thought he might end up with bruises. He couldn’t bring himself to care, cock bobbing, hard with need, and he couldn’t touch himself— didn’t want to. He wanted Mark to make him come without being touched. “Fuck, Mark, fuck me, come on, please,” Damien said in a rush, hips canting up. He knew that was what Mark wanted, if it wasn’t, Damien wouldn’t be so desperate for it, would he? He’d never wanted something this badly before, like the desire had seeped into every cell in his body.

Mark all but growled, digging his nails into Damien’s flesh. His thrusts sped up, shifting his angle just a little so that he could find that spot inside Damien that made him arch and curse and thrust back. The way Damien met his thrusts with his own, fucking the empty air helplessly made Mark’s brain heat more, pleasure and possessive desire crackling down every limb, and into Damien’s body. 

“Fine. I’ll do things your way.” 

Each rough thrust dragged a cry out of Damien. Mark reached out to run his fingers through Damien’s hair before giving it a sharp jerk, and he thrust harder at the way Damien keened, the way his body tightened up and cock bounced in response to the pain. “I thought you’d like that.” He repeated the gesture, fucking Damien through the hurt. 

Damien felt like his was going to cry or pass out, something. Every movement of Mark’s dick sent sparks over his nerves. All he could do was let himself sink into the sensations, let Mark control him. 

Mark’s hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering as the pleasure got too much. He clutched at Damien’s hips and came inside him with a muffled sound.

The intensity of Mark’s orgasm hit Damien and he arched, feeling Mark burn himself deep and hot inside Damien’s body— in his mind. He cried, twisting the sheets in his hands. He couldn’t not like it, love it. He couldn’t help but want Mark to tattoo himself as far inside Damien as he could. His hips thrust against air, and he came too, without being touched.

They both collapsed into the bed. Damien shifted, curling a little into a ball, his back to Mark. Mark rolled onto his back, scooting away. As reason slowly trickled back, Damien bit the inside of his chek. He could almost hear the way Mark was tensing up, blaming Damien for the situation. Damien’s sides rose and fell evenly, his ability to get upset still shoved deep down by Mark’s desire for calm.

“I’m going to grab a washcloth,” Mark said finally. He slid off the bed and headed into the bathroom.

When he returned, Damien had uncurled, laying with his limbs loose across the bed. Mark took a moment to retrieve the blanket up from the floor. “Here,” he said, passing Damien the washcloth. While Damien quietly cleaned himself up and dropped the washcloth on the bedside table, Mark spread the blanket back out to cover them. “We should get some rest. We’ve got another week of driving.”

Damien’s lips parted like he wanted to say something, but he shrugged instead and dropped back against the pillows.

“Good night, Damien,” Mark said. 

The only response was blankets rustled, as Damien turned over again.


End file.
